


Class Reunions Are for Losers

by Kira OHara (KiraOHara)



Series: Drunk!Fic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, DRUNK!FIC, Drunk!Fic Round 1, Humor, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiraOHara/pseuds/Kira%20OHara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Um...ten year class reunion.  at a bar.  in winter.  ...Sex happens.  ...I think.  Maybe.  ...No, just hangovers.  Sex, um, later.  ((Sober: Hogwarts is having a ten year class reunion a Muggle bar. With plenty of alcohol. Chaos ensues.))  DRUNK!FIC, PRE-SLASH, SSHPDM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Class Reunions Are for Losers

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Class Reunions Are for Losers  
>  **Author:** Kira O’Hara  
>  **Pairings:** Severus/Harry/Draco  
>  **Word Count:** 5,517  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Warnings:** Drunken idiocy, aborted handjob, murderous porcelain, and an unfortunate amount of regurgitation. Also, I was drunk off my arse when writing this, so it is PURE CRACK, and there are so many typos…  
>  **Summary:** Hogwarts is having a ten year class reunion a Muggle bar. With plenty of alcohol. Chaos ensues.  
>  **Author's Notes:** This still has me laughing...mostly at myself. It took me about 7 hours and a lot of vodka. I plan on rewriting it properly (but keeping the crackiness) and adding a companion from Harry’s POV. ;)
> 
> **Written For:** HPDrunkFic@LJ Round 1  
>  **Prompts Used:** _Prompt Post:_ crying into one’s beer(ldydark1@LJ); inconvenient hard-on(veritas03@LJ); innuendo cocktail names(kubrick_potter@LJ); obscene doodles(mods?). _Extras:_ kjp_013@LJ: Harry and Draco, pub, booze, fun ensues. dysonrules@LJ: "I thought it was open"; red underwear; pub crawl; leather jacket; hand-drawn smiley face. whydowefall@LJ: clothing swap; Harry Potter characters getting drunk and writing about Muggles having porny frolics. morgana_fire@LJ: skin sticking charm. ldydark1@LJ: trainers; snow and hail storm; "You decide to tell me this now?!" kittyhelix@LJ: billiards/pool game; table sex. veritas03@LJ: karaoke; confusion of hoard, horde, whored.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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> **  
> _For those curious, this was my original drunken header:_  
> **
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> 
> **Username:** KiraOHara - Kira O'Hara, really! :D  
>  **Title:** Class Reunions Are for Losers  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** uh...HP/DM...HP/DM/SS...y'know what, it's one big orgy, relaly. Have fun finding out whose body part htat is. ...Or not?  
>  **Rating:** ~~NC17, loves~.~~ SO SORRY. Is, um, R? I WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU WITH HOT SEXENGS LATER I PROMISE.  
>  **Words:** Lots of them.  
>  **Warnings:** Huey shiowed us pronz. I think I copuied some of it., in my brain. OH! No, now it's, um, gross. But funny. Funny gross. ...I sorry.  
>  **What you drank, how much and how long it took you:** Raspverry vodka mized with apple juice. Yum. Uh...I think I started...1 o'clocl...lessee if I remember to se if when I finihsed. It is...3:13 now. :D It is almsot 8 andI am tires.  
>  **Summary:** Um...ten year class reunion. at a bar. in winter. ...Sex happens. ...I think. Maybe. ...No, just hangovers. Sex, um, later.  
>  **Notes:** I so totally apologize for how poorly this is written. I can do better when sover, I sward. ILU all. Hi. ♥ OH! I just remembered. Um...pretend nobody dies in DH. Well, except Snakeface. Yeah. 'Cause, um. Ohlookthere'saSnape. And, um, I don't feel like explaining. It's hot. ...Shutup. And I blmae, um, *ckechs* Elaine Malfoy for the last part. *laughs* That is just weher the barin went, I swelkjr. Okay, ilu, goodnight~!
> 
> **Sober Notes:** Now awake and sober. *eyes this, eyes fic, groans* Have fun laughing, and I really do apologize. XD I wrote it in NotePad since Word was correcting my typos, but if you need it in .doc or .docx instead of .txt I'll resend. XD

  
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Class Reunions Are for Losers   
  


 

To tell the truth, he wasn’t really certain how it had come to this.

Praying desperately, he tried his best to explain away the hand that twitched at his hip and the hair that tickled his ankle.

But no. He was never one to black out when he was drunk.

And that was no longer anything to brag about.

 

.o0O0o.

 

Walking into the bar, he almost immediately considered it a mistake. There were too many people, both recognized and not. And of those he recognized...there were far too few Slytherins and far too many of everything else. And, for that matter, it was a Muggle bar.

But he had already been spotted, and...well...he could do with a drink. Or three. Class reunions be damned. Plus, it was alternating between snow and hail outside, and he would rather have a few warming drinks in him befor he ventered out into _that_ shite again. ...Not that he hadn't had a few already to even bother with this nonsense, but no one needed to know that except him.

...And that table he just stumbled into.

But really. A little extra warmth would be good before venturing out into the frozen wastelands of London again.

Sliding into an empty barstool while attemping to glare the rowdy bar into submission, Draco was quickly presented with a quandary. The bartender...asked what he wanted to drink. Now then...how the hell was he supposed to answer that?! Staring the man down with all of his non-drunken (lies) might, he tried to recall a name of...something. Sadly, that didn't work so well and only made the room spin. Stupid bar and it's stupid spinny walls. Well, then, perhaps let teh man behind the counter think he had a little power, while still making Draco happy.

"Something sweet that will fuck me over, but no coconut. Or pineapple - that nonsense is _nasty_ ," he said with a glare, knowing well that it would quickly subjugate the man in terror. ...Or something. Like get him his drink. That he totally knew he was ordering.

A giggle sounded from the seat next to him, and grey eyes quickly narrowed on an all-too-familiar mop of oh-so-sof-MESSY! black hair. Narrowing his eyes in what had to be his most piercing glare EVER, Draco glared at the sodden Saviour next to him. "Try the Purple Gatorade - bluer the better!" came a nigh-hysterical giggle. Draco would have gladly narrowed his eyes further, but they were already squinted a bit too much to make out the man next to him. Bloody Potter and his sight problems - they just had to be catching, didn't they?

Sadly, the bartender - LIKE EVERYONE ELSE - listened to the Golden Boy and brought Draco back an odd concoction of bluish-purple. Well, what the hell. You don't argue with the man fixing your drinks, right? Tilting it back, Draco let it trickle its way down his throat, slowly letting it drip down from his mouth. He would have to remember this one. Purple Gator Aide, right? What an odd name. But Potter didn't need to know that. "It sucks. Gimme something...um...strawberry." He nodded in satisfaction. Take that, stupid Gryffindor. He had nowhere near Draco's intellect, and wouldn't understand the complexitiy of the fact that Harry Potter could not give better drink ideas than Draco Malfoy. It was a travesty to the universe. It was amazing that the vanilla little Gryffindor knew more about drinking than butterbeer and Ogden's.

As a bright pink drink of manliness made its way into Draco's hand, he smirked at the mop of hair next to him. It was lovely and sweet and goes to show that he STILL had better taste than The Boy Who Lived even while drunk. Not that he was anything but sober, naturally.

Malfoys don't _do_ drunk.

What met his glare was not the tears and woe of one who knows themselves to be inferior. Instead, there was a bright, happy grin, a blush, and a giggle. Well...bugger. Once again Draco cursed his inability to narrow his eyes any further without closing them. It was that contagious astigmatism, it was. Speccy git.

Having had enough of Saint Potter's attempts at making him blind, Draco spun in his stool to leave when he caught sight of the stage.

...No.

It...it couldn't be.

No...there is no way that Severus Snape would ever choose to participate in a group sing-alonng to Don't Stop Believing, with Longbottom and Finnigan sharing the mic. They had to be, um, torutiring him! That's it. Right. Of course. 'Cause those Gryffindors weren't such the nice people that everyone thought they were and Snape was hitting a high note and Draco thought his world might end if there was anyone to argue this.

Well, now it was apparently Draco's turn to be a hero. Mustering his liquid courage (i.e., drinking down the rest of that lovely strawberry...thing), Draco set off to rescue his beloved godfather fromm the clutches of Gryffindors and whatever that thing he was shrieking into was called. It must be some sort of torture device. Naturally.

However, like all his best laid plans, this too went awry. Before he could save his darling godfather from the evil clutches of his least favorite students...Draco found himself pulled onstage too. Snape must be under Imperious, he decided, for there was no other explanantion due for the arm slung around his neck and the shrieking torture device knowcked in front of him.

Looking frantically about the room, he sought any help he could find. Blaise had a She-Weasel in his lap, apparently sucking the life out of him through his mouth. Pansy had apparently lost a very vital game of billiards against the Thomas boy, because there was no other reason that she should be lying atop those uncomfortable little balls with him pinning her to the table. That leg wrapped around him was supposed to kick him, of course. Theo...oh. He was being suffocated by the chests of two Hufflepuff girls that Draco had never bothered to learn the names of. And Daphne seemed to be swapping outfits with a few half-dressed Ravenclaw boys, much to Draco's dismay. WHERE were his faithful sidekicks? A quick glace to the left gave Draco more of an eyeful than he _ever_ wanted to have, and he was quite happy to pretend that he _never, ever_ saw that and that Crabbe and Goyle simply must not have been in attendance. Or were passed out on the floor. Yes. Getting trampled by Gryffindors and their wily schemes.

Damn them for stealing Slytherin's wily schemes!!!

When Severus jostled to the side in his merry tune-belching, Draco was forced to wrap his arms around the man's waist in order to stay upright. The arm wrapped around his neck was much too strong. It was with a small scrunch of his nose that DRaco realized that Uncle Sev really would forever and always smell of powdered newt liver.

He was hoping the ten years since he'd graduated would eradicate that memory. But alas.

Unfortunately, his attempts at rescue needed to be truncated when his bladder informed him that the several tumblers of whiskey combined with the two mixed shots needed to be released from his body. With a slump, he managed to escape his poor, mind-controlled godfather's grip and slip off the stage. Rather crafty, if he might say so himself. And he would.

The drunken Muggles and knackered yearmates and _those bloody evil chairs_ insisited on making it difficult for him to complete his journey to the loo, but he was always one to persevere. Even with bruised shins and scarred corneas.

Finally getting to the door he noticed marked gents, he gave it a tug and nearly wept when it denied him entry. Statute of Secrecy be damned, he (no-so-)quietly cast every unlocking charm he could think of at the door. With heavy heart and bladder, he finally admitted defeat and sagged against the wall, praying for death from exploding insides to come quickly.

Suddenly, there was that blasted mass of hair in his face, and the door was _letting Potter in_. Well, he never! Well, fine, if the door decided that it wanted Potters and not Malfoys then he would simply not want anything to do with it and- "Hey!" he called, glaring at the hand that had tucked into his elbow. There were not supposed to be hands there. Especially ones that dragged him toward stupid, prejudiced doors.

"You're supposed to _push_ , Malfoy," came the slur and the giggle beside him as Potter dragged him into the washroom.

"Always the hero, aren't you, Potter? Gotta save people to live? Fiendfyre and Dark Lords and exploding bladders-"

"What?" came the ever so eloquent reply, and Draco gave up. Well, he wouldn't be a Slytherin if he looked a gift horse in the mouth. Doing his best to saunter over to the urinals (and not doing so well at it), he collapsed against the back wall with one arm and went about handling himself with the other.

"Why were you just standing there?" came a slurred question from the urinal next to him. Honestly, didn't Potter know even bathroom etiquette, or was that even too much to ask?

"...I thought it was open," Draco deigned to reply.

"It was." Potter just seemed oblivious.

"Shutup. At least I don't wear red underwear. Stupid Gryffindor." There. That ought to silence him.

"...I think you do."

"No, I don't."

"Malfoy, you're looking down. Those are yours."

Blinking, Draco did finally register that, indeed, he was looking down at his own urinal and the bright red panties he'd opted on earlier in the evening. They had looked delicious on him and his pale, pale skin in his mirror earlier, but he would never wear them outside of his lonely bedroom.

Except, apparently, he had. And now Potter had seen them. Gryffindor-red panties were more than blackmail-worthy, and Draco knew it. Glancing over at Potter's stall and the oddly green pants he saw poking out of those sinfully tight trousers around Potter's rather generous cock...he sort of lost that train of thought.

Oh. Right. Potter's cock. ...No, wait, that wasn't...

Regardless, while he had finally finished emptying his bladder to his body's liking, there was now the issue that he couldn't quite fit himself back into his underwear. Really, his cock had fit nice and snug in his panties before now. Glaring at the offending appendage, he bit back a growl and pouted at it. Honestly, couldn't his own body be on his side, for once?

Letting out a miserable sigh as once again his prick refused to tuck nicely into the panties, he turned pleading eyes on the man next to him. He liked saving people, right? Maybe he could save Draco again now. "...Help?" he whimpered, adding an extra jut of his lip to hopefully entice Wonder Boy into assisting him with his plight. _Draco Malfoy, you are a_ genius, he commended himself.

Potter, he noted, looked rather odd with his eyes as round as saucers. There was a small shuffle, and then Draco felt himself pushed backward against the sinks in the tiny Muggle restroom. Hopping up onto one so as to assist in making the room stop spinning, Draco gasped as he felt a warm hand wrap around his prick. He moaned, spreading his legs farther apart - for comfort - before that delightful haze was interrupted by a loud creaking.

Now what was...?

Without warning, his resting place dropped away and he was forced to wrap himself around the pillar in front of him. The very warm pillar. That seemed to now also be wet.

Blinking rapidly, Draco became aware of the whoosh of water. A quick survey of the area revealed that the sink he had been resting on had decided to fall away and now there was water...everywhere.

"...Does this count as washing our hands?" asked the sodden, warm, squishy pillar to which he clung. Inspecting his hands, Draco felt himself falling for a moment before there was a delightful pressure on his arse and the world stopped moving. Once he was certain that his hands certainly passed inspection (they were quite lovely, weren't they?), he finally registered the background grumbling.

"-Malfoy, get _down_!" And with a start he realized that the pillar he had clung to to escape the terrible crashing sinks had somehow become Potter, and a very ~~sexy~~ irate Potter that had his hand on Draco's bum. Well, honestly.

After a few moments Draco came to the conclusion that Potter needed to stop trying to feel him up and put him down. Which he told Potter in his most elegant terms.

Right before he hand to scramble and cling and swear at the man for nearly dropping him onto the deadly, jagged pieces of industrial porcelain.

Finally getting his feet properly settled on the ground, he continued to glare at Potter. Well, until Potter reached out and tucked his oh-so-chilled member back into his sodden undergarment, right before waving a hand to fix the sink. Really, it was such a pain that Potter was such an arse, because that feat was rather hot.

Well, with that mess averted, there wasn't much more to do than go back out and...what was it? Oh, yes, rescue Severus from the clutches of crazed ex-Gryffindors. They had obviously taken the ten years since school to plan this, but that didn't mean that Draco didn't have to ruin it for them. Well, really, wasn't that his job?

Stepping regally (stumbling) out of the loo, he graced the wall with his presence (sagged pitifully against the wall) as he made his grand reentrance. Luckily, his yearmates (and the few others who had snuck their way in, Weaslette and Wood), had decided against the pub crawl to stay in just this one. Even if it was a Muggle pub. And definitely below the Malfoy standards. And- Hello, were those appletinis?

Nursing a deliciously green drink - befitting his role as a Slytherin, certainly - he swore when he realized that the stage was now occupied with one Zacharias Smith serenading that annoying younger Gryffindor with the camera. Carl? Constantin? Creeper? ...Whatever. The important part was that Sev wasn't there, and Draco needed to save him.

Creeping stealthily (tripping over every chair that magically jumped in his path), Draco made his way finally to the other end of the bar, where there seemed to be a rather loud commotion. Several napkins were stuck to the wall in succession, and after a moment Draco was able to get the gist of what they said.

Apparently, their entire year and the handful of teachers who had been dragged along had decided to write a romance novel. On bar napkins. And about Muggles. Interspersed with the occasional obscene doodle to demonstrate when words failed. And they weren't stuck to the wall, they were ordered along Finnigan and Finch-Fletchley's chests with a skin-sticking charm. Really, it wasn't all that bad (aside from the myriad typos and McGonagall's insistance on the term 'quivering man-rod'), but it still wasn't something Draco wanted to read knowing that his own bed was currently very empty. And had been for quite some time.

Flopping down at the bar, Draco was just getting into a nice maudlin state when he noticed Millicent. She was crying into her beer, wailing something about Crabbe and Goyle and wanting to be the meat of a sandwich. Ordering the strongest drink in the house, Draco was very happy to never have stooped that low, and quite interested in forgetting that such a mental image could ever exist. His exhilarating future sex life depended on it.

After downing his drink and struggling to not choke on whatever the fuck it was they passed as a drink that felt more like mud that was on fire, he finally became aware of Severus sitting a few seats over, taking great care while drawing a lopsided smiley face onto a man's leather jacket. Really, it would have been adorable with his tongue peeking out like that, save fore the fact that it was Severus Snape, inflictor of fear into the hearts of students, devilish Potions Master, and all around greasy git.

Before Draco could announce his indignance at this fact, he became aware that he was being dripped on. A wet sleeve blocked his view as Potter leaned in to mumble something about sex on the beach. Gobsmacked, Draco could only stare at the Boy-Turned-Man-Who-Lived. Any minute now, Draco would be sure to give him a piece of his mind regarding being propositioned while drunk. Really, did he think he could just take advantage of-

A brightly-colored drink was slid into the Golden Boy's hand, and with that he was walking away.

Well, hey, waitaminutehere! It wasn't that Draco had said _no_ really. Honestly, couldn't the idiot even wait for the proper response? Especially after dripping on him? Which Draco asked him, though he wasn't certain that his words hadn't come out a mite garbled. Well, whatever. If Potter didn't understand then bully for him.

Clouded green eyes turned to blink sluggishly at Draco. A small crease appeared between Potter's eyes, making him look quite adorable, if one were so inclined. Which Draco, of course, wasn't; regardless of what his cock wanted to think. An internal argument with his nethers on this matter cost Draco the first part of Potter's answer, but he did manage to catch a slightly baffled, "-and you're already wet?"

Looking down at himself, Draco realized that, yes, indeed: he was wet. Soaked, really. There was quite the puddle under his chair. "You decide to tell me this _now_?!" Right then, it must have been the fault of that dastardly sink that wanted him dead and that Potter had saved him from. It seemed Potter really was good at saving him from things, and that was enough for him to really give thought to Potter's ealier proposition about sex on the beach.

However, mention of this idea simply had Potter pointing at his ridiculously bright drink. Oh. "Well...how about a long, hard screw?" Draco asked, figuring he'd just cut to the point. Perhaps Potter could save Draco's love life, too. That would be a relief. "Or are you still with the red-headed slut?" Before Potter could stop looking confused, it was time for Draco to look confused when two drinks were pushed his way. Wha- ...Oh. What was it with Muggles and naming their drinks after such naughty things, really? Well, best to not waste them.

Sipping the one he was pretty certain _wasn't_ the Red-Headed Slut, Draco (not-so-)deftly looped an ankle around Potter's leg and gave him his best smoulder. Really, even if it _was_ Potter, his cock had seemed rather nice when Draco had glanced it in the water closet (and oh how fitting that name currently). Or was that Draco's cock? Perhaps they had both been nice, he settled. And really, it had been far too long since Draco has seen _any_ cock and wasn't that a crying shame. So attached to Potter or no, Draco was going to have that one. Now if Potter would just comply with Draco's cue...

Right as Potter seemed to be getting the idea, a warm weight draped itself across Draco's shoulders. Turning to summarily incinerate whoever dared to be an interloper into Draco's finally-getting-laid plans, Draco realized that Severus was now drooling on his shoulder. "Clever, clever, little Slytherin Sex Idol. Care to share your hoard?" came the barely discenible slur.

His horde? He didn't have a horde! Damnit, Severus, for reminding him. Forced to settle for The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-Have-Decently-Sized-Manbits, wasn't that obvious? On the verge of tears, he opened his mouth to let his beloved mentor in on such when Potter decided to talk over him. Again.

"Wait, you wanted me to pay?" asked the cutely confused idiot.

"No, no, boy, that wasn't what I-"

"But you just said he whored, and you wanted some. But...hey!" Suddenly Potter was crushing Draco against his chest, looking less the dashing hero and more like a petulant child who someone just tried to steal his teddybear. It was still cute. Draco silently cursed his hormones that he would ever admit such a thing even to himself. Sexual repression was a Malfoy trait, really.

REalizig that there needed to be a distraction to avoid causing a scene (nevermind that everyone around them was either Muggle or quite thoroughly pissed and didn't care), Draco quickly picked up the abandoned drink and shoved it at Severus. "No, he just wanted one of my drinks. My horde of drinks. ...Or hoard of drinks works." Draco blinked for a moment trying to figure out if that really did make sense, but quickly avoided that headache-inducing notion to give his godfather a glare to make sure he went along with it. There was no sense in Potter realizing that he didn't have a horde of people salivating at his seduction skill. Or, well, realizing that he was being seduced, too.

"Now you have your drink, run along," he sniffed, wrapping his arms around the man still clinging to him in a possessive geesture.

Apparently alcohol distubred the Potions's Matster's sense of Slytihern cunning, as he just downed the drink and stepped up behind Potter to lean his chin over the shorter man's shoulder and leer. "But whate if I want to share?"

"But you drnk it all?" came Potter's clearly confused voice of reason, turning his head to regard the man currently draped over him with much less panic that he would have soberly. Draco recognized the grin that spread across Severus's features and took a moment to be indignant.

"Well then, I should give you a taste shouldn't I?" Brain catching up with him, Draco realizzed this was no time to be indigannt na d well ime to defend his prize. Seizing Potter's collar and dragging him forward, he successfully unseated Sev's chin before it could scoot any closer. He then proceede to snog the life out of one Harry Potter, quickly forgetting to keep up the triumphant glare to match Severus's grouchy one (really, the man needed to learn that if he glared all the time that it wastn' wuite so effective when he really wanted it to be) in the sheer wonder of Potter's mouth.

Apparently that tongue was good for more than speaking Parseltongue. Or maybe speaking it meant that Potter's tongue was now a snake, which made perfect sense with the way its length slid around in Draco's mouth. Really, it was making him quite lightheaded. ...Though that might be the lack of oxygen due to not breathing.,

REmembring that he did, in fact, knoew how to breathe trhough his nose while kissing, Draco heroically managerd to avoid passing out. He would pat himself on the shoulder later, when he wasn't too busy gripping Potter's shoulders. And he could find his own shoulderr. Which got rather harder to think about when Potter's hips were shoved into his and there was the glorious revelation that the man was just as hard as Ddrco himself. Then Potter's hands were on his thighs, grabbingn and scooting him to the edge of the barstool - and wasn't that amazing since he was so certain that Potter's hands were on his waist. Maybe Potter secretly had more arms. It would explain his casting abilities.

But no, his knee brushed against somthing else as the next thrust of Potter's hips went forward just as awkwardly as the first, finally forcing him ot break the kiss in confusion.

Oh.

That would explain things.

Apparently SEverus really did want to share an dnot steal Draco's bound-to-be-amazizng shag. He could even be said to be helping Draco along, what with the mouth fastened to the back of a now-moaning Potter's throat and hands pulling Draco's knees so that they crushed Potter between them when Severus thrust. Draco slightly worried that Sev's bony frame would stab into Potter in more ways than the one intentional, but Potter didn't seem to mind so nothing for it.

Realizing that this was his chance - Now! While Potter was distracted@! - he tried to say something about heading back to his place, but all that came out was a squawk. Clearing his throat and wondering just what he's done to make it so raw, he tried again, even managing a sultry eyebrow wiggle along with it. When Potter mananged to give a few very hard nods (sorry Sev, for the headbutt), Draco wasted no time in scrabbling off the stool and dragging Potter - and, by merit of clinging, Sev - toward the doors. "My place is close," he said wtih the utter conviction of one who has no idea what they're talking about, but is incredibly certain they're right. He'd had lessons in that from boyhood, so he knew it sounded legit.

Jerking to a halt just outside the doors, he saw Potter had stopped short with a look on his face that was likely supposed to be thoughtful but just looksed like confused constipation. After a moment of fearing that the fresh air had made Potter reconsider (and really, what would that leave Draco with other than blue balls or a night with his godfather he would never wish to speak of again (despite what any teenage fantasies might have argued)?), Potter finally let out a small whine and said, "But it's too far to walk!" And truly, the accompanying pout made Draco want to kiss him. So he did. Quite enthusiacitlcaly. After that 'mmmp- _mmmph_ ' sound finally registered for the eighth time, Draco finally pulled awy wot see what it was.

Oh. Potter was trying to talk still. That would explaini the lack of tongue-sliding and the presence of teeth. Which wasn't all that bad either.

Nodding sagely as if he'd understood everything that Potter had just tried to say, Draco frowned in thought. "It _is_ too far, isn't it?" Looking around, Draco was certain that an answer would pop up in the alleyway. RElaaly, he just needed to find the amazing idea and it would all be clear... Except it was hard with Potter draggin him back by the sleeve.

"Nono, I can...*hic*...I can Apparate us," Potter intoned with all the serious of a highly trained Auror (who was drunk off his arse). Eyes growing wide, Draco gazed on in wonder. And a little jealousy. Potter always caught the snitch and now he'd caught Draco's amaixng idea when Draco wasn't loooking. He was like a magnet for catchy-things. It would explain his high arrest rate, certainly.

Looking ot SEv to see if he shared in the sentiment, all Draco could make out was a severe molesting of the back of Potter's neck. WEll, apparently Sev agreed that Potter was a genious. Right then.

Nodding in agreement, Draco wrapped himself back around his hero (because he had saved them from the plebian horrors of walking, and bedcause side-along was easider of you were closer. of course). With naryu a glance around to check for Muggles, there was a loud POP! and they were gone, gone...

...Collapsing in a heap on Draco's floor. Stumbling his way to standing, Draco let out a loud HUZZAH! when he finally looked around and realized, yes, this was his flat. And then he tripped over someone's arm and landed on some curiously soft-yet=also[-bony things he quickly identified as Sev and Potter. Or Harry, as he should probably call him, if they were going to have glorious amounts of sex.

Which would have been a lot more tempting if his stomach hadn't heaved with his fall onto Sev's elbow. Ow. Searching around for something ot relieve the pressure he could feel growing in his throat, he noted an overturned footstool and quickly scrambled for it. It would do fro emtpying his stomach for==iof the evil alcohol.

Sadly, it seemed that Potter had a sensitive nose - or maybe he was just that sympathetic, bless his heart - as the sounds of retching reached DRaco just aftet he'd finished. Looking over to see if Sex waas going to join, he noted that the man just looked very dazed and was holding his head. Whoops, he must've been what overturned the footstull.

Decidedly less aroused at the sound and smell of vomit, Draco agreed with himself to focus on his task of making the bad feeling stop. Another half hour or so - with the addition of Snape finally coming out of his daze to decorate himself and the floor, and then for the three of them to take turns holding each other's hair and stripping off ruined clothing - which really did require assistance.

Finally, after what seemed like several forevers worth of Hell in which Draco thought he might have been punished for every nasty deed and owrd he;d ever said, all he could do was collapse backward into the heap of limbs coccoooned around him. Snuggling in, he was very shortly dead to the world.

 

.o0O0o.

 

With a groan, he peeked open an eye to face his doom. The room stank, he was covered in sweat and another fluid he didn't want to meantion, and his leg had fallen asleep.

And, worst of all, he hadn't gotten laid. And probably wouldn't for some time once this got out.

Feeling the world shift, he realized that his cheek was stuck to Potter's chest - POTTER! - and that it was indeed the Golden Boy's hand twitcihng at his hip. But then what was...? Oh, hell. Yes, the hair on his ankle would be from where his _godfather_ had fallen asleep across them. And was cutting off circulation to one of Draco's legs.

REally, he could cry. His nemesis and his mentor. He was _never drinking again_. And also never showing hiis face in public. Especially not at any class reunions.

A moment more realized that the world had shifted because Potter was trying to sit up, and despite the fact that he felt like his head had been infested with hinkypunks, he dilligently rolled off - unpleasant sticky skin making him go slowly. Malfoys were still polite, even when horribly hungover. Another groan was heard as much as he felt it against his ankle, and he looked o with pity at his poor godfather. SEverus would be even more mortified than he, likely.

Sharing a look of commiseration with the other Slythering, Draco turned to squint up at the doom likely reflected back at him from Potter's face. Thankfully, it seemed Potter was just as hungover and ready to share in the commiseriousation. Well...good.

"So..." Draco croaked out, pulling a face at the noise before clearing his throught. REally, hard alcohol and emetic activities were bad for sounding smooth, and he would gladly quit them both right now.

"Right then," he was interrupted before he could say...whever it was that he thought needed to be said to keep Potter from telling everyone. "I...I have a suggestion," Potter half-slurred quietly, still not quite recovered.

Severus seemed amused by this, but Draco was just curious. "Which is?" No need ot give away that he was fretting.

"Shower, change, breakfast, sex."

Blinking, Draco took a moment to register what Potter meant. REalyl, it was more because of its surprising anture than the fact that his brain felt like candy floss. Honest. No, really.

But as it did sink in, Draco could feel something bubble up. "You...still want to have sex with me?" he asked, cringing at the squeaky hopefulness in his tone. REally, was he that hard up? After a momet he decided that...well, yes, he was. He was even willing to have a threesome with SEverus if that's what it took. Not that he was looking forward to that. At all. Or even a little. And hadn't been since before graduation. No.

"After a shower. And hangover food. ...Maybe skip the changing part." When Potter just grinned at him, Draco couldn't help but grin back. _I threw up in his shoes and he still likes me!_ Though he quickly decided to not enlighten Potter on the state of his trainers until afterward. Just in cast he didn't remember that part.

"I suppose you have good ideas on occasion," he said judiciously. _Ecspecially whne I'm too hungover ot have them,_ he thought about adding, but best not to piss off the shag.

And as they peeled themselves off the floor and dragged their way to Draco's bathroom (with a quick call to a mildly horrified house elf to take care of the living room), Draco reflected that maybe he didn't mind class reunions all that much.

 

((A/N: I AM SO SORRY. THAT WAS GROSS, HAHA! And, um, I promise you smut later. I'm too tired. I will evern, um, write it soverbly from Harry's POV. *nods* Sounds grand. Btu, um, I can't see anymore, so if there are lots of typeos it's becuase I'm not really looking and...um...yeha. I LOVE YOU ALL, DARLINGS. *MUAH*))

**Author's Note:**

> _Stay tuned, and I will at some point add on a proper rewrite of this! ♥_


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